Unleashing Echoes (Reconstructionist 3)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  Declan, Jasmine, and I stood shoulder to shoulder, surveying the extensive grounds of Fairchild Manor in the morning light. Kett, wearing the baseball-hat-and-sunglasses combo he favored on sunny days, prowled the edge of the six-foot-high stone wall encircling the estate’s two hundred and eighty acres. Rolling lawns led toward the ten-thousand-square-foot English country manor. The various types of deciduous trees that sparsely forested the bulk of the grounds were a riot of new leaves rustling in the light breeze.

  I couldn’t see anything nefarious on the surface of the estate. But then, I never could. I reached my senses toward the outer wards that ran along the edge of the property. The magic responded to me almost eagerly.

  “Here we go again,” I murmured. “The wards are open.”

  “Why risk having us tear them down?” Declan said grimly. “That would make it more difficult to keep us contained on the other side.”

  “He won’t be keeping us,” I said. “He never could.”

  Kett reappeared beside Jasmine on my left.

  She flinched, then laughingly growled. “Don’t love the look on you, vampire.”

  The executioner arched an eyebrow over the top edge of his black-rimmed sunglasses.

  “At least switch to brown frames,” my best friend said. “It would suit your coloring better.”

  “We’ll go shopping later,” Kett said.

  “Oh,” Jasmine gushed, putting on a high-pitched, singsong tone. “And buy me anything I want?”

  “I thought the offer implied.”

  “In Paris?”

  “I was thinking Milan.”

  Jasmine chortled.

  I took a deep breath, knowing that the banter was Jasmine’s way of coping. And that Kett indulging my best friend was part of his playful anticipation of the chaos to come.

  I stepped through the wards, crossing by the twelve-foot-high gateposts and sticking to the driveway. Jasmine and Declan followed me without hesitation. The protective magic slipped through and around us — and then it snagged on Kett and attempted to eject him from the grounds.

  I reached back to the vampire, even as he was wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I took another step. The warding pushed back against us.

  On my left, Jasmine grabbed Kett’s other hand as Declan grabbed a fistful of the vampire’s sweater.

  We took another step.

  Kett made a slight noise that might have been frustration, but might also have been pain.

  I kicked off my shoes, feeling the power of the estate churning underneath my feet. “Let us pass,” I whispered, deliberately taking another step.

  The magic eased at once, until it had dropped to an almost-playful simmering underneath my feet. Almost as if it had simply been testing my resolve.

  “Jesus,” Declan muttered.

  Kett loosened his hold on me.

  Jasmine spread her hands before her, acting as though she was touching the magic floating in the air. “I thought Jasper severed the bond.”

  “He did,” I said.

  Lark appeared on the driveway a few feet ahead of us, glancing back with a look of intense satisfaction. Brownies were notoriously possessive.

  I sighed. “But the estate likes us better.”

  “Who wouldn’t?” Jasmine asked archly.

  Lark disappeared, presumably having shown herself only so I’d know she was with us in some capacity. If she was anything like Bluebell, the children would be her first priority. Which was good.

  “Don’t count on it,” I said, slipping on my shoes and continuing to walk up the drive toward the manor. “If Jasper didn’t actually want us here, we couldn’t have crossed through at all.”

  Three luxury sedans — all in shades of gray — were parked before the front entrance of the mansion. It was an easy guess that they were Rose’s, Grey and Dahlia’s, and my parents’ vehicles. In that order, indicating that they most likely arrived and confronted Jasper separately, which was just rash and stupid all around. But then, the Fairchilds were known to attack first and cover up the evidence later. Except for Jasper. And me.

  Well, not including the attack I was currently mounting.

  “I’ll check the grounds,” Kett said.

  “No,” I said. “Stay with us, please. Jasper will know you’re on the estate already.”

  “We’re a stronger force together,” Declan said.

  “If we’re separated, he can pick us off one at a time.” Jasmine glanced at Declan over my shoulders.

  We knew Jasper’s tactics, unfortunately. Intimately.

  Kett nodded.

  Swathed in cream silk and linen, Dahlia stepped out from beyond the open doors of the manor. Her arms were slightly spread to both sides, and her blue witch magic simmered in her eyes.

  I cracked open my personal shields, scanning the front of the mansion. Dahlia was connected to a web of magic stretching out all over the manor, presumably tapping into the secondary wards that shielded the main house specifically.

  Two large pockets of magic simmered on either side of the stairs, no doubt shielding two more of our parents.

  Though we were obviously walking into a trap specifically designed for us, we continued to slowly approach the front doors.

  Grey, dressed in beige corduroy slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves uncharacteristically rolled up, wandered out of the house. He stood within the magic his wife was wielding, just behind and to the side of Dahlia. He looked exhausted, standing quietly with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

  “Time to turn back, kids,” he said.

  Ignoring him, I glanced to Declan. “A display of our intentions will work better than words with this crowd.”

  He grinned manically. “How about I just clear our path?”

  “Wisteria,” Dahlia snapped. “Now is not the time for a temper tantrum.”

  I paused, leaving a good twenty feet between us and the vehicles arrayed across the end of the driveway. Declan crouched down beside me, holding a flat metal disk in his palm.

  I reached out to the estate magic, gathering it around us like a comforting blanket, and creating a shield between us and the elders on the front stoop.

  “Jesus,” Grey muttered.

  I wasn’t certain if he was reacting to my pull on the estate magic or the fact that we were prepared to stand against them.

  “Weaknesses?” Kett asked.

  “Dahlia is the strongest with ward magic,” Jasmine said briskly. “Grey will rely on basic witch spells, such as distraction or confusion spells, but he’s particularly skilled at stealth. Though he’s already given up that advantage.”

  Declan tossed the disk, throwing it as he would a Frisbee. It spun straight underneath the nose of the middle sedan.

  “Violet is more than proficient in poisons,” Jasmine continued. “And don’t assume she doesn’t have anything that can take you down. You better believe she’ll be armed for vampire.”

  “Not this vampire,” Kett said coolly.

  Declan snorted.

  The nose of the car suddenly compressed, slamming down onto the disk. Its front tires exploded. Then, with a burst of magic, the front of the car lifted, upending and crashing down on the car behind it.

  Glass shattered and metal buckled — but nothing penetrated the shield I held effortlessly before us. Dahlia’s warding was completely unaffected as well — though that was as expected, given that challenging it hadn’t been Declan’s intention.

  The path before us into the house was now clear, other than the wards.

  Dahlia curled her lip into a snarl aimed at Declan. “I’m going to enjoy giving you the spanking you’ve deserved your entire life, you ingrate.”

  She thrust her hand toward us, fingers clawed. The house wards she’d tapped into moved as an extension of her hand. And with that force, she tried to grab Declan.

  Her magic hit my shield, actually driving me back a couple of feet.

  “Dahlia!” Someone who sounded a lot like my father gasped. S
o that confirmed at least one of the two shielded presences on either side of the stairs.

  “We don’t have time to play,” I said. Bending my shoulder into my shield to hold Dahlia at bay, I gathered the estate magic into my right fist. Then I punched forward, aiming for her as if she were standing only a foot away from me.

  The force of my blow shoved the ward magic she was holding toward her. Her head snapped back and she gasped. A trickle of blood ran from her nose.

  Dahlia touched her face, glancing down at her bloody fingers with disbelief. Grey stepped up, touching her shoulder. She twisted away from him, spreading her fingers and appearing to reinforce the ward magic.

  “And what about Slate?” Kett said, quietly prompting Jasmine to continue detailing the specializations of the Fairchild elders. Specifically requesting background on the magic my father wielded.

  As if summoned by his question, a beam of blue light sliced through the pocket of magic to the right of the stairs, revealing my father, Slate, just as my mother, Violet, appeared to the left.

  “That,” Jasmine said grimly.

  My father’s magical blade spun toward me — similar in size to a throwing knife, but much, much sharper than honed metal. In a perfectly timed, well-practiced maneuver, the energy blade cut through the protective magic I held, moments before my mother unleashed a writhing mass of malicious magic.

  Jasmine and Declan spun away. I snapped my forearms to the sides, instinctively calling forth an intensified barrier of magic, then stepping forward to knock my father’s knife away and catch the bulk of my mother’s spell across the shield.

  Jasmine and Declan hit back in the same moment.

  My cousin flicked one of the devices she’d built on the plane toward the lamppost at the base of the stairs near Violet. It latched into place. Then magic exploded out from all the mansion’s exterior lights, arcing across Dahlia’s shields as blue streaks of electricity. My mother stumbled, more annoyed than harmed.

  Jasmine’s tech powers weren’t quite so benign when she was on Fairchild land and near enough to draw electricity from the house.

  At the same time, Declan tossed a series of stones toward my father. A volley of blue-tinted lightning strikes exploded across the wards, momentarily obscuring Slate from my sight.

  My intensified shield dissipated. Out of practice, but fortified by the steady trickle of estate magic that I could access, I was able to call the shield forth instinctively — but I couldn’t hold it for long.

  I pulled another layer of magic from the endless pool rolling underneath my feet, repairing the hole my father had sliced through my shield. Reminding myself of the tenor of Slate’s magic, I added another layer of protection with my father’s power in the forefront of my mind.

  Declan’s and Jasmine’s magic cleared before us, revealing Violet, Slate, Dahlia, and Grey standing arrayed across the front stairs. They were unharmed, but looking ruffled.

  Jasmine and Declan stepped up to either side of me. Kett was tucked in behind my right shoulder.

  “They’re pulling their punches,” I murmured.

  “We’re not any good to Jasper dead,” Declan said. “Not until he kills us himself.”

  “No one is killing anyone,” Grey said, attempting to be reasonable. “There have just been some … crossed wires.” But he frowned as if he didn’t quite believe himself. As if he was simply parroting something he’d been told. Jasper wasn’t a reader like Nevada, or capable of ensnaring someone’s mind as Kett could. But perhaps his control of the coven magic allowed him to plant suggestions in the others in a more insidious fashion than I’d thought.

  “Get me through Dahlia’s shields,” Kett said.

  “Yes,” Jasmine crowed. “Release the vampire!”

  I glanced over at her questioningly.

  “What? Release the kraken? Come on! You know that movie.”

  “Wisteria isn’t remotely powerful enough to get through any shield I hold.” Dahlia was boasting, despite the fact that she didn’t sound particularly sure of herself. But a Fairchild never backed off goading others over their power in the middle of a fight.

  “You’re right,” I said pleasantly. “Not by myself. At least not without killing you.” I lifted my palm before me. “So why don’t we give you a glimpse of what Jasper created? A glimpse of the power of three?”

  All our parents glanced at each other, disconcerted. Then, without a word and without taking their eyes off me, they each started building offensive spells.

  Declan placed an innocuous-looking, smooth, flat stone on the palm of my hand. It buzzed with his magic.

  Jasmine raised her hand, looking over my shoulder at Kett. “Would you prick my finger?”

  The vampire reached around my shoulder, carefully slicing his thumb across the pad of Jasmine’s forefinger. Blood bloomed from the wound.

  She pressed her finger to Declan’s stone, adding her own magic — along with the blood tie she held with her mother, Dahlia — to its spell.

  I raised the stone to my mouth, whispering, “Dahlia,” so that my breath and magic flowed across it.

  “Dodge this, Mommy,” Jasmine singsonged.

  On cue, Declan grabbed the stone and flicked it directly at Dahlia. She reacted instantly, clapping her hands together and commanding the ward magic to absorb the spell we had created.

  Except I had given this spell her name, which was possible for me only because Jasmine had tied it to her mother through blood. Combining the power of three was what we’d been trained for, what we’d been conditioned to do, since we were nine years old. It was magic that Jasper must have imagined he would use one day to fell his mightiest foes — until we turned it against him.

  The spell exploded, shredding the wards Dahlia held. The magic of the manor shuddered, as if in pain. Dahlia fell, instantly insensible as her connection to the house wards was severed.

  Slate and Violet immediately stepped into our path in the midst of throwing spells. But with a single thought, I reached out to the estate magic and opened the ground underneath their feet, swallowing them up to their shoulders.

  I didn’t spare them a second glance or thought. They were as inconsequential in this moment as they had chosen to be when they hadn’t protected us from Jasper the first time.

  Moving as one entity, Declan, Jasmine, and I stepped past them without pause, climbing the stairs to where Grey was standing over Dahlia.

  “That’s enough,” he said, actually pointing a finger at me as if I were a naughty child.

  The vampire latched onto Grey’s neck and took him down without a sound.

  Leaving our parents to Kett’s brand of mercy, which I had no doubt included quelling them through blood loss but not killing them, we continued into the house unimpeded. Side by side, we crossed through the marble entranceway, beyond the massive marble-carved staircase to the second floor, and back to the kitchen where the door to the basement stood open.

  Because there wasn’t anywhere else Jasper would be.

  Chapter 11

  The below-ground level of Fairchild Manor wasn’t at all like a typical basement, utilized for storage or even as a recreation room. Even though electrical wiring and plumbing ran throughout the mostly open, twelve-foot-high raftered ceiling, the dirt-floor basement had only one purpose — the casting of magic.

  The main section of the basement was situated below the kitchen, dining room, and front parlor of the manor. But years and years of magical excavation had created a web of antechambers that extended far underneath the front lawns of the estate.

  With their rough ceilings held up only by occasional wide beams and haphazardly placed posts, these dirt caves had once been filled with magical items, spells in progress, and even botched castings that had to be contained and walled off. But without even checking, I was quite certain that most of the basement would currently be bare. Lark and her family had stripped the estate of all ‘dark magic’ last January, following a directive I’d unintentionally give
n them. And it was highly unlikely that Jasper had managed to replace even a hundredth of what would have taken the Fairchilds centuries to accumulate and pass down from generation to generation.

  That sanitizing, unfortunately, didn’t mean that the basement didn’t contain years of memories for Jasmine, Declan, and me. Including the last time we’d confronted Jasper in a bid for our personal freedom. Even though we hadn’t known that was what we were fighting for at the time.

  Declan and I had simply tried to stop Jasper from harming Jasmine, perhaps even killing her. We had ended up breaking our uncle, confining him to a wheelchair, and splintering the coven. Or at least the younger generation of the coven. But now we were back, as rash as all the Fairchilds that had come before us — except we were fueled by morality rather than the desire to accumulate power.

  But I knew that the darkest part of my soul would whisper fiercely if I paid it any heed — reminding me that vengeance was the fuel that propelled our righteousness.

  I traversed the open wooden-tread stairs, one at a time. I was leading, with Jasmine, then Declan bringing up the rear. I didn’t bother fretting about being grabbed from between the steps, as I had every time I’d descended into the basement as a child. I could feel Jasper’s magic ahead of me, even before I’d set foot on the first stair.

  Though the basement was wired with electric lights, Jasper had chosen to line the stairs and walls with white candles, except for the large circle he’d called forth in the very center of the main room. For that, he used four elemental candles — the same colored candles I carried always in my bag. I had learned just about everything I knew about manipulating magic from my uncle. As we all had.

  I stepped off the bottom stair, removing my bag from my shoulder and placing it carefully against the wall. I wasn’t going to need it or anything it contained for the coming confrontation. There would be no time to call forth protection circles — or at least not carefully planned and placed ones.

  Jasmine and Declan paused behind me on the last two stairs. The three of us took a moment to absorb the scene that Jasper had set for us.